Roses of May - The Yellow Rose
by PrincessKanako
Summary: Mia always liked flowers. So when yellow roses start showing up around the Opéra Garnier, she becomes curious. Who is sending her these flowers - and why can she never see their face? Based on the 1990 miniseries.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: **Re-edited, much improved, and hopefully, will be updated more frequently!

**Title: **Roses of May - The Yellow Rose

**Author:** Princess Kanako

**Pairing(s): **Erik/OC

**Date Submitted: **21/10/14

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Phantom of the Opera or any of its affiliates; they belong to Andrew Loydd Webber.

**Claimer:** I do own my OCs, a few plot ideas, and several other things that pop up along the way.

**Genre:** Friendship, Romance, Drama

**Summary: **Mia always liked flowers. So when yellow roses start showing up around the Opéra Garnier, she becomes curious. Who is sending her these flowers - and why can she never see their face?

* * *

><p>Someone had it in for her today, Mia Collins decided as she ran around her small apartment.<p>

She'd been out way too late the night before, woken up two hours later then she should have, and - she screamed - her stupid roommate had used up all the hot water. Shivering madly as she towelled herself dry, she grabbed the first set of clean clothes that her hands had touched and thrown them on before her foot slipped on the floor rug and sent her sprawling on her face. She glared at the rug, knowing she was in for a heck of a bruise, and hauled herself to her feet, scrambling for her shoes. She'd have to skip breakfast this morning, there was no time….

Her eyes widened in horror as she caught sight of her reflection. She'd put on a lot of makeup the night before. She had thought she'd gotten it all off, but the person staring back at her had thick, dark smears around her eyes that made her look like a scary raccoon.

"Oh, shit," she muttered under her breath, lightly banging her forehead against the wall. Shockingly, it didn't actually make her feel much better. Racing out the door, she hurried down the steps, going so fast that she didn't even notice the patch of ice that had formed when the temperature dropped overnight. Her feet went out from under her, actually clearing her head, and she went down the last few steps on her back. Groaning with pain, she came to land on the footpath, her body aching. Her bag had opened, and the roll she had made for her lunch lay half in a filthy puddle.

_There's still a half left. Five second rule…_

Before she could do anything about it, a passing dog snatched up the dry half, leaving Mia with the half still floating in the water. Cursing fluently, she packed her books back into her bag with her laptop and ipod and headed toward the Metro, digging into her pocket for her pass. It took a moment to pull it free, but as she yanked it out on her way toward the subway steps, a sudden gust of wind snatched it out of her hand. Crying out, Mia chased it down the path, and had almost caught up with it when the wind died abruptly, sending it straight down a sewer grate.

Mia stared slack-jawed for a moment before throwing her hands skyward. "Oh, for fuck's sake!"

There was no answer from the sky. Except for a downpour of freezing rain. Mia groaned, then groaned again as she felt her phone going off in her pocket.

_Where are you? J_

Mia smiled half-heartedly, replying quickly to her friend before turning to trudge back home, the rain getting heavier and heavier. She could barely see in front of herself, and she kept bloody tripping over nothing. She shivered, pulling her thin cardigan around her even more. She couldn't wait to get home and just get something hot to drink. Hopefully, the water would be back to normal temperature by now and she could have a shower too. She looked both ways before beginning to cross. It was really quiet, Mia realised. Much too quiet for Paris at this time of day. A high-pitched noise to her right startled her, and she turned to see a large horse rearing before her, the hoofs flailing dangerously before coming down with a decisive wham. Mia's world was filled with pain before she did something she'd never done in her life: she fainted.

* * *

><p><strong>Opéra Garnier, Paris.<strong>

"Somebody help!" a young man panted as he stumbled into auditorium of the Opéra Garnier. He sank to his knees as the cleaning staff surrounded him, as he struggled to keep an unconscious girl in his arms. "I don't think she's breathing!"

Things moved very quickly then. Several strong-looking men with a stretcher all but snatched the girl from his arms and hurried her away. The girl's condition had worsened on the short journey from the street, her breaths coming at a shallow pace and her skin was cold and clammy. An oldish man who appeared to be in his late fifties came in a good while later, reaching to shake the young man's hand.

"I'm Gerard Carriere, the manager of the Opéra Garnier," Gerard said as the young man took his hand and shook it. "And you are?"

"Lucas Belhumeur," he replied.

"Are you the girl's companion? Employer? Fiancée?" Gerard asked.

Lucas shook his head.

"I didn't see her in the road. She just appeared out of nowhere in front of the carriage." He dabbed at his forehead with a handkerchief. "Is she going to be alright?"

"I'm sure she will be, but I can't say for certain until the doctor is finished with her. Do you know who she is?"

"No, I don't. I've never seen her before."

Gerard nodded his head in thought. "I see. Wait here."

Lucas sat down on the steps and waited for Gerard to come back. His hands wrung nervously in his lap as his mind whirled. _'Oh God, please let it be alright,'_ he silently prayed. _'I didn't mean to do it.'_

Gerard came back in the room moments later, smiling at Lucas warmly, then sat down beside him.

"She'll live," he said, watching as Lucas seemed to beam hope. "She's lost a lot of blood, and she's unconscious, but she's a healthy girl. She doesn't have any broken bones or the like, and the doctor managed to stop the bleeding."

"Thank goodness," Lucas muttered. "What are you going to do with her?"

"She's to stay here until she's recovered," Gerard replied, folding his arms thoughtfully, "I'll see what I can do about locating her family."

"I see," Lucas answered, guilty relief sweeping over him when he realised the girl wasn't going to die and that he wouldn't have her blood on his hands. Not that he wouldn't deserve it, but still. "Thank you."

"It's not a problem," Gerard waved away his gratitude, "One more mouth to feed won't make much of a difference."

"Understood," Lucas replied, bowing, "Thank you again."

He slipped out of the auditorium, the door shutting with a small creak.

"Are you sure about this?" a bodiless voice asked, as it echoed in the large, empty space, "Do we really have room for another gossipy female who knows nothing of opera?"

Gerard sighed.

"Yes, I'm sure," he answered wearily, "She's hurt, and it would be nothing short of murder to turn her out now."

"What if you can't find her family?" the voice asked again. The manager shrugged.

"There's always work to be done, and never enough people to do it. We can always use another set of hands around here."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm positive."

An empty sigh bounced off the walls.

"I knew you would say that. If you insist, the girl can stay."

"Thank you."

"Where are you going?" the voice asked as Gerard walked towards the door that led backstage. He turned and replied simply, "I'm going to check on the newest member of our family."

* * *

><p><strong>To be continued...<strong>


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: **Thank you to Ri-chan for the lovely review! Glad you liked it, hope I keep up to your standards!

**Title: **Roses of May - The Yellow Rose

**Author:** Princess Kanako

**Pairing(s): **Erik/OC

**Date Submitted: **23/10/14

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Phantom of the Opera or any of its affiliates; they belong to Andrew Loydd Webber.

**Claimer:** I do own my OCs, a few plot ideas, and several other things that pop up along the way.

**Genre:** Friendship, Romance, Drama

**Summary: **Mia always liked flowers. So when yellow roses start showing up around the Opéra Garnier, she becomes curious. Who is sending her these flowers - and why can she never see their face?

* * *

><p>Waking up with a headache was one thing, but being surrounded by cream silk sheets was something else entirely. When Mia opened her eyes, that is exactly what she saw. She was lying down in a soft, downy bed, with thick quilts and huge fluffy pillows supporting her head. She tried to move, but found that her limbs felt like cotton wool. She was too dazed to really do anything, and the bed was so comforting that she didn't want to leave its soft warmth, so she decided to 'explore' from where she was. Looking around, she saw that the room was large and airy, with a cream-coloured vanity, a painted changing screen, a large wardrobe, and a small velvet sofa beside a tiny table.<p>

Did anyone live there? Was she all by herself? Where in the world was she? Had something happened to her? Was she _dead_? At that thought she began to panic. Suddenly the door opened. Standing there was an oldish man, in his fifties, she would guess.

"Good evening Mademoiselle," he said with a smile, "I'm glad to see you're awake."

"Where am I?" Mia asked, her fingers curling themselves into the quilt. Striding forward, the man sat at the end of her bed, his blue eyes twinkling kindly at her.

"You are in the Opéra Garnier, in Paris," he said calmly. "My name is Gerard Carriere. I'm the manager. What's your name, my dear?"

"Mia Collins," Mia replied hesitantly, holding a hand up to her temple to stave off the inevitable headache, "How in the world am I in Paris?"

Gerard frowned.

"I was hoping you could tell me that, mademoiselle," he answered, running a hand through his hair, "However, the doctor did say you may have memory loss after the carriage hit you-" _Carriage? What bloody carriage!?_ "-for which Monsieur Belhumeur apologised profusely. Nevertheless, I'm offering you the chance to stay here until you can remember everything, and we can send you back to your family."

"Oh, um, thank you."

"What skills do you have?"

"Um-" Driving a car was definitely **OUT** if carriages were on the scene here. Plus, she didn't really trust her own driving skills anyway, so it was probably just as well. "I can paint?"

"Really?" Gerard's face practically lit up, "We do need someone to help make the portrait props, if that wouldn't be too much trouble.

"It's no trouble," Mia said politely, "When do you want me to start?"

"Say three days from now," Gerard said after a few moments, "Take the time to get used to the Opera House. It is quite the maze if you don't know your way around."

"Of course." Mia hesitated, then asked "How long have I been here Monsieur?" the French word sounded odd on her tongue, something that was quite noticeable to the manager.

"Nearly eight days," he replied gently. Mia's eyes widened. Eight days! Dear God. She would have to wait until she was alone to have her freak-out. Gerard stood, gesturing to a little door beside the vanity.

"The bathroom is through that door," he said as he made his way back to the entrance to the room, "There's hot water already inside, and there are clean clothes in the wardrobe."

"Monsieur, thank you," Mia said sincerely as she got out of the bed. "I really can't thank you enough."

"It's no problem, mademoiselle," he answered with a smile, and left the room.

Mia sighed and put a hand to her hair, finding that someone had braided it into a loose plait while she was sleeping. Sitting at the edge of the bed, her fingers started fiddling with the lacy cuff. _Think logically_, she told herself. She'd gotten up, had a morning of bad luck. She'd decided to go home. She'd crossed the road and then- Nothing.

Shrugging, she stretched slowly. Her body was very sore, like she'd done six rounds with Jamie, and her head was throbbing. She doubted they had asprin. She crinkled her nose. She really needed that bath.

Picking at the loose plait, she made her way slowly across the carpet and into the bathroom. Behind the locked bathroom door, she slipped the lacy nightdress over her head with only a little trouble from her aching limbs (that loudly protested at what she was doing, after a week of disuse) and let it fall to the ground in a pool around her feet, smiling at the small tub already filled with hot water.

* * *

><p>Erik looked at the intruder with an open mouth. True, she couldn't see him through the mirror, but this wasn't what he'd expected! He'd come up to borrow some hot water in one of the cans, then slip back quietly to his lair. But this <em>newcomer <em>had entered the room before he'd even slid the mirror to one side, then proceeded to unclothe herself. It would be the gentlemanly thing to look away, he knew. But he'd never been anywhere near a woman before (well, aside from his mother), much less an _unclothed_ one! His body wouldn't obey his mind!

Her red hair was down now, hanging an inch under her collarbone. She had long legs, a flat stomach, and beautiful voluptuous…

Erik finally shook himself out of it. He knew he had to gain control, and the only way to do that was leave, right that second before things got out of hand. She turned around as she got into the bath. Erik swallowed, his throat suddenly dry, as his feet finally decided to start working, and he left, not even bothering to do his customary swish of his cape, he was in so much of a hurry to leave.

* * *

><p><strong>To be continued...<strong>


End file.
